


𝕊𝕃𝕆𝕎 𝔻𝔸ℕℂ𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕀ℕ 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝔻𝔸ℝ𝕂 (Slow Dancing In The Dark)

by hexburn (thestormapproaches)



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Dancing, Drinking, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Party, Partying, Slow Dancing, only a lil bit tho they aren't drunk, slow dancing in the dark by joji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24076990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestormapproaches/pseuds/hexburn
Summary: It's the after-season party, but three quiet friends aren't partying at all. One is on his phone, too lightweight for alcohol. The other two drink together.Is it wrong for Jus to wish for something more? That maybe, just maybe, they could be dancing together?A/N: if the title has lots of boxes, it's an error with text display, sorry ^^''
Relationships: Oskar "Selfmade" Boderek/Juš "Crownshot" Marušič
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	𝕊𝕃𝕆𝕎 𝔻𝔸ℕℂ𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝕀ℕ 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝔻𝔸ℝ𝕂 (Slow Dancing In The Dark)

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by "SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK" by Joji on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/track/0rKtyWc8bvkriBthvHKY8d?si=BFMr5gMBS0OTPMiNEJuIGA) and [YouTube](https://youtu.be/vzjUs5yR68o).

“You know,” Jus murmurs quietly, voice almost lost in the thrumming haze of the party around them, “you don’t have to stay here.” It would be better, anyway, if Jus were alone. Less to deal with. He’s already so far beneath Oskar; the gap between ninth and second is quite a distance to span, and the drained cocktail glasses on the bar between them probably won’t help. Jus was a fool to think they would, really.

“I know I don’t have to,” Oskar answers, sipping the last of his strawberry daiquiri. “But I want to.”

“Why?”

It’s a simple question, but one which Jus never seems to understand. Why? Why stay with him? Why stay in touch despite changing teams? Why even bother to talk to an ADC who can’t carry his team? Tim would be a better fit anyway, for a jungler as powerful as Oskar.

“Why stay?” he asks again. “Why do you want to?”

Oskar just shrugs and looks away. The neon-blue-purple lighting around them seems to shine on Oskar’s cheeks with a flush of pink, but… that’s surely just a trick of the light, a new neon in the mix. Certainly not a blush. Right? 

They sit there for a while, patiently, while the ice in their glasses melts. It’s quiet. In most quiets, Jus feels alone. It just happens naturally, feeling lost when there is silence; after all, gaming houses are terribly loud, and even before Jus lived in a gaming house his parents were always happily chattering away about something or other. It feels lonely, usually. 

With Oskar, that isn’t the case, though. The songs blaring through the speakers on the other side of the room keep them company while they relax in the best way they know how - the same way they did on MAD Lions, in fact. While the other 70-or-so players and casters and analysts and coaches party on with alcohol on the dance floor, Oskar and Jus listen to the EDM. Tim listens, too, or at least he might be - he’s on his phone, as per usual. Wonder who he’s texting.

The music is uneventful, all hype and heavy drops and energy, until they hit a song that rolls and rides in waves, slow and smooth and sad. It sounds good. It fills the silence almost enough that Jus’s sense of loneliness slips away, the operative word being “almost.”

“Did I ever teach you how to slow-dance?” Oskar asks out of the blue, “Like I promised?” His smirk is infuriating… not in the least because Jus already knows the answer. He knows Oskar never got around to dancing with him like this before tonight. Of course Jus remembered the offer. Of course Oskar didn’t.

“I guess-”

“No, we never did,” Oskar finishes. Maybe… maybe he did remember, after all. “Give me your hands, Jusi,” he says, though he certainly doesn’t wait for Jus to let him take the lead and instead grabs Jus by the hands, dragging him into the throng of couples awkwardly swaying. It’s painfully obvious that the only ones in the room who know how to slow-dance are the casters, who have already paired off among themselves and their plus-ones.

“Shouldn’t you dance with Tim instead? You should be with him,” Jus protests, noting with worry how Tim hasn’t stirred from his spot at the farthest edge of the bar, by the window, all alone now, still staring at his OnePlus with a smile on his lips.

Oskar just laughs. “He has his own interests right now,” says Oskar, chuckling, “as do we.” 

Despite Jus’s prior and continuing protests, Oskar manages to pull them into the centre of the crowd, in the perfect little circle. “You don’t have to do this,” Jus murmurs under his breath. This time, though, his words really do wander off into the echoing music, and Oskar just smiles at him.

“Follow my lead,” Oskar says, a demand the way it always is, accompanied by those piercing blue eyes locking onto Jus’s pale hazel. In time with the music, he counts off beats of eight under his breath, just loud enough for the two of them to hear as he rests his hands on Jus’s shoulders, making Jus gasp. Neither Jus’s hands nor feet quite know where to go. Patiently, though, more patient than Jus has ever seen him before, Oskar guides him through each beat of the box step, keeping their feet synced in movement.

Thankfully, Jus is a quick learner, so the tripping ceases after just a few repetitions. Still, Jus’s hands perch nervously on Oskar’s elbows, unsure of where else to land as they sway and step in time. Oskar, though, doesn’t seem to have the same reservations. 

His hands let go of Jus’s shoulders and clasp behind his neck in one smooth motion, holding their bodies even closer in the smooth hum of the bassy speakers surrounding the dancefloor. “You can put your hands on my waist, if you’d like,” he practically purrs into Jus’s ear. Jus gladly accepts the offer

It feels like there’s nothing else around them but  _ them, _ twirling in a world all their own, slow dancing in the dark. Nothing else matters.

Oskar’s gaze pierces straight through Jus’s heart, striking his soul, and Jus could just drown in those beautiful ocean blues like nothing else matters. “I love you,” he whispers against Jus’s cheek. They’re still standing in the centre of the room, the middle of the dancefloor, in an anti-spotlight of shadows cast between the neon haze of the room’s lighting, but somehow Jus doesn’t feel self-conscious at all. 

One of his hands rests firmly on the small of Oskar’s back, and Oskar’s own hands rest on the back of Jus’s neck and in his hair, cupping his face and gently nudging it down. Carefully, in small, individual motions, Oskar leans up bit by bit until their lips press together.

Jus’s world shatters into sparkly fragments lined with equally sparkly piano notes, beautiful blues and soft reds and the slightest hint of dusky orange and dawning pink, so many colours and feelings and sounds and the taste of Oskar’s strawberry daiquiri colliding with the lingering traces of Jus’s cosmo in a swirl of sour and so, so much delicious sweet. It leaves Jus with nothing more than the desperate want, no,  _ need _ to dive in again. Oskar would appear to have the same idea - they part for a shared breath, then surge forward once more and kiss chastely, with just their lips pressing and squeezing and sucking ever so lightly, but oh, so deeply. They only part for any longer than half a second after Perkz nudges them roughly and tells them to get a room. Not like Perkz himself is any better with how he’s grinding on Jankos, but whatever - the song is over, now, and there are no more slow, mellow sounds echoing through the air between Jus and Oskar.

Maybe…

Maybe this was just a mistake…

The thoughts well up in his mind uncontrollably, as soon as Oskar sinks back down from his tip-toes and their embrace weakens.

Maybe this was meaningless.

But then- “D-do you want to get out of here?” Oskar asks quietly. His tone nearly purrs, but the stutter gives him away - he’s just as nervous as Jus is right now.

Relieved, Jus smiles. He’s not alone. “I… I’d love to,” he murmurs, unable to stop smiling and staring at Oskar’s eyes and lips and smile.

“Let’s go, then!”

Their fingers intertwine, and then it dawns on Jus.

He’s never been alone.

**Author's Note:**

> i'll admit, i have an affection for angsting crownshot  
> plus one fluff shortfic, one angst i'm working on, two lyricfics, and a mega-story i'm plotting out right now! expect good things to come :D


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